Olive and Elijah
by m e l i n a 2 - D e e
Summary: Suppose Peeta and Katniss DIDN'T cause a revoulution and they needed to train two new hopefuls for the hunger games... Olive and Elijah... Will they be able to live up to their victors' expectations?May the odds ever be in their favor.. RatedT 4 violence
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is My first Hunger Fanfic... I do not own the Hunger Games Trilogy**

**STORYLINE: Suppose Peeta and Katniss didn't do a rebellion but the year after The Games and they're training two new hopefuls...**

** Chapter 1: The Reaping**

** Olive Willow's POV**

The day of the reaping will be a horrible one… The fear of Effie Trinket saying my name will be too much anxiety to bear. The cold sweat trickling down my back is ruining any chance of me getting any sleep. They won't call my name. It's impossible… I'm only thirteen.

_Dear Annemarie, You put on quite a show you beautiful little monster_

_And now your eyes are the size of saucers…_

_She loves to break hearts_

_And tear them apart._

_It's too good to give away_

_Just look at the way they sway…_

I just noticed I'm singing the bitter tune.

"Olive… Please get some sleep… The Reaping is tomorrow and you can't stop it no matter how much you try…" The loving words of my mother… _Her_ name is Annemarie… She used to be a dancer… but that was when she was young and beautiful… Now, her beauty has faded away with her happiness. She still has those brilliant double-colored eyes of hers. She has blue at the tips of her eyes and the rest is brown.

I suppose I should introduce myself… but I won't tell you much... only a little… You may be apart of the Capitol… So I won't trust you until you've proven to me other wise.

M name is Olive Willow (Yes, I am aware of my horrid name.). I am thirteen years old. I have brownish-black hair and green eyes. I have olive skin and several scars. I won't tell you why I have scars until I trust you. I mostly have them on my hands. They're itchy but painful when I scratch them. Itchy scars are My least favorite scars. They remind me of when I got scabies when I was nine and I mother refused to take me to because she thought I would be bothersome, She said was going through her own problems and mine would just make it worse. My mother is a bitter old hag. She only has room in her heart for one love and I didn't make the cut.

I am from District 12 in Panem. It is precisely twelve a.m… Happy Hunger Games…

[Line Break]

Nine A.M… Three hours until the reaping. My mother 'beautifies' me and preens and poses in front of the mirror. My mother doesn't look so horrible now… She has done her make up ad curled her black hair. She has painted her lips a bright red. She has on floral ballet flats and a blue dress to her ankles. She spins on her toes a couple of times and sways her body. She smiles at the mirror.

She doesn't look like a hag at all now.

"Did you dance like that at the Capitol?" I manage to say.. As far as I'm concerned I don't have a mother… I have a roommate who hates me.

She smiles at the mirror, reminiscing about her dancer days.

"Yes, but I danced in a beautiful ballroom with hopes of never returning to this hell…But you can never count on hopes, Olivia…" She only says Olivia when she thinks of good memories that sting to think about.

Waiting is terrible when you're horribly impatient like myself… when I'm waiting for the reaping (like I am right now) it feels dreadful with suspense. You're basically waiting to die… I would have no hope of winning the games. I'm skinny and awkward. I'm flexible and some what strong… so that may help. I don't have common sense though. If I try I can possibly be quite the strategist… but when it comes to things like: telling whether a plant is poisonous or not… I'm as good as dead.

"Let's go… It's time.." My mother says as we head out the door. Everything is blurry from that moment on. My eyes sting from sweat. I can't stop fidgeting. My fingernails look like numbs, thanks to nervous chewing. When the woman Peace Keeper pricked my finger for blood- I didn't feel a thing. I didn't dare pay attention to the video about District 13. I am in a daze and refuse to listen anything Effie's blue lips say. Until they speak:

"Olive Willow! Don't be shy love, come up.."

I have absolute no idea how my legs dared to climb those stairs. My mother looks like she over-dosed on whisky and reality.

"Our next tribute for District 12 is… Elijah Redwood.. Please step up, dear.." she said in an overly happy voice. Suddenly, the black haired and blue eyes boy came trembling up. He gave me a scared look the blushed.

"Hello. My name is Elijah Redwood and it will be misery killing you in a few weeks…" he says and smirks.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Sorry for not updating lately… I've been busy and I'll try my best to update all my stories more… I don't own The Hunger Games Trilogy….

** Chapter Two: The Realization**

** Olive Willow's POV**

This isn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to be called up here. I'm not supposed to be facing all of the people from my district. I'm not supposed to feel so small, thanks to a scrawny boy next to me. My mother shouldn't have the classic Oh-My-God painted on her face right now.

"Say your name sweet heart… Don't be shy…" Effie says. She shouldn't be saying that.

"Olive Willow…" I say sternly. I hope they know on the inside I'm sobbing lie a child.

"And what's yours, love?" Effie's voice is killing me… doesn't she know that I'm in a horrible nightmare? Her voice is making things all too real for my liking.

"The name is Elijah Redwood… Also known as the next Hunger Games Victor." Elijah says with a smirk planted on his face. The district's reaction is slow but then picks up as saying:_ Ha... Stupid little dreamer boy…_ But they smile at his foolishness.

Effie is taken by surprise at the foolishness of this boy.

"Let's hear it for Elijah Redwood and Olive Willow… Our tributes for District Twelve!" Happiness drips from every single word she says. The district is amused… so they clapped. They clapped for the foolish boy and the girl. This is fake. This isn't happening. This must be some scheme pulled by the Capital… I know it is. This is just a nightmare… I've probably gotten curious and taken a sip of my mother's whisky. Yes. That exactly is happening. I'm hallucinating… Aren't I silly?

A Peacemaker shows Elijah and I to separate rooms. They smell so sweet. This beats my mother perfume any day. For once, I don't see a single maggot on the ground. Isn't that amazing? My silly mind can make such a vivid piece of work that I've never seen before. My mother comes in. She's drunk senseless. She has this pain in her dazzling eyes. It gives me reassurance that I'm hallucinating. She looks like she's already hit the bottle. Pathetic.

"You're going to die you, idiot… don't you know that?" She says, with whisky dripping from her woozy voice.

"Go to hell you pathetic old drunk." I say plainly. She slaps me across the face, She's sobbing now.

"God damn it! Why me? I was _somebody_! I was adored! I'm not supposed to live like this! I am worth millions and I'm living in this hell!" She cries. She lights a cigarette.

"Anything to keep you assured when you look at yourself and end up with nothing…" What the heck did I just say? My mother understands. She acts as if I just slapped her.

"I was actually one of them! I _had_ something! I had beauty; I had someone who loved me! I wouldn't let what I am today clean my shoes! I was with them since I was eight! Thirty freaking years down the shitter! Dammit!" She screams with such a pain I didn't even know existed.

_Go ahead and cry_

_I want to be the tear in your eye._

_You've damned me_

_So you feel it too!_

My brain feels sour and gross. Doesn't this old bat know who I think I am?

"Times up." The peacemaker says as he escorts my mother out the door. I'm trying to adjust to everything going on around me. Nothing. Silks and velvets and other precious things surrounded me. Little bottles of sweet smelling stuff were everywhere. The couch I was sitting on felt too comfortable. The fake roses make me want to cry. I want to wake up. Someone help. Please? I'm not meant to be here. I'm barely going through puberty and then I get this slap in the face? I'd rather have my mother back. I feel uneven and gone. I don't exist. That would be great. I'll just sit back and let the world change without me.

Elijah comes in with a cigarette in his mouth. He blows the smoke in my direction. It's time to say my thoughts. No more stupid songs.

"You're one brave bastard, aren't you?" is all I can say. I hate it when I swear in front of people I don't know.

"Why not make a change if you won't…" he says. The smoke from the cigarette is annoying. I stare up at him. He's leaning against the doorway puffing away.

"Smoking is bad for you."

He smirks.

"So is me killing an innocent little kid like yourself in an arena just so I can entertain some sick jerks…" He says simply. His nose keeps on twitching,

"It reeks in here." He says. I think that's when I realized it. This was no dream. This is reality and I am in the Hunger Games.

**A/N I'm really sorry it's so short! I'll try to make it longer. I write longer if you R&R *hint,hint* You can also SYOC from the other districts… You can PM or Review…**


	3. SYOC

**These are the SYOC (Submit Your Own Character) Necessities: **

**Name:**

**District:**

**Age:**

**Personality:**

**Skin Tone:**

**Eye color:**

**Hair color:**

**Siblings:**

**Weapon of Choice:**

**Usual Clothing:**

**Tall or short:**

**Catch Phrase/Motto:**

**Friends in Arena:**

**Anything Extra:**

**And that's it you can PM me or Review…. Please please pleaassee SYOC … It'll help me soo much**


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